


All in the timing

by PenguinofProse



Series: Smutty Saturdays [20]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Smutty Saturday, also good timing, bad timing, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Bellamy walks in at exactly the wrong moment.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Smutty Saturdays [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930432
Comments: 24
Kudos: 155





	All in the timing

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a silly fun smutty Saturday set early in S4. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing it. Happy reading!

Honestly, Clarke can't explain how it happens.

One minute she's standing with Raven, poring over some diagrams of the air filtration system. And then Raven is asking her to run and fetch a particular set of notes from engineering down the hall, and Clarke is turning to grab the door handle without really looking, and then -

Then she's realising that what she just grabbed is most definitely _not_ a door handle.

No. It's – it's basically _the opposite_ of a door handle, if that's even a thing. It's Bellamy's cock, hardening really rather quickly in her hand as she looks up into his startled face.

She collects herself. She lets go of the handful of trouser and cock. She steps back, horrified, choking out apologies.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't even hear you open the door. I was just -"

"It's fine. I heard. We're all in a rush these days." He says, as if it's nothing.

She rather thinks the flush on his cheeks and the tension in his jaw tells a different story, but she lets it go. She nods at him as cheerfully as she can, slips through the open door behind him.

And she hopes to high heaven that she's stopped blushing by the time she gets back with that damn file.

…...

She can't stop thinking about it. Days pass, and she literally cannot get that incident out of her head.

She figures it would be OK if she was stuck on the mortification of it. She would be within her rights to stay embarrassed at having grabbed her good friend's cock by mistake in the process of trying to open a damn door. That's a really stupidly funny thing to do, the kind of embarrassing tale she could tell for the rest of her life – if she survives the next four months.

But that's not what she's stuck on. She's stuck on the fact she _liked_ it. She's known for a while now that she sees Bellamy as more than simply her good friend, of course. But getting her hand on his cock – even so briefly and so accidentally – and feeling it thicken beneath her fingers has given her a dangerous, tantalising taste of what it might be like to touch him more deliberately.

No. She needs to stop kidding herself. He's not interested – she'd know by now, if he was. The way he got hard when she touched him was just a purely physical reaction. And that flush and the tension in his jaw was just a natural consequence of an embarrassing situation.

She cannot allow herself to pretend there was anything more going on than that.

…...

Raven is insufferable about it, of course. She jokes about it all the damn time, will not let Clarke leave a room without reminding her to grab the door handle, not anyone's genitals. Honestly, it's tiresome. Clarke is the de facto leader of the human race – she shouldn't be wasting her time with such childish jokes.

Yeah. That's not the real reason she's pissed off. She's really annoyed because Raven keeps reminding her that she enjoyed accidentally groping Bellamy far more than she should have done, and that _deliberately_ groping him is not on the cards any time soon.

So that's why, this morning, she snaps at Raven once and for all.

"Hey, Clarke? Can you grab that tablet off the desk for me? Watch you don't grab anything else while you're -"

"Will you give it a rest, Raven? I get it. I made a fool of myself. Joke's over." She rants, hands spread wide in helplessness.

To her surprise, Raven actually does shut up. She closes her mouth, looks thoughtfully at Clarke for a long moment.

And then she says something that surprises her.

"Honestly, Clarke, I think Bellamy made more of a fool of himself. You got out of here with your dignity intact. But he was standing here gulping like a goldfish for a good couple of minutes."

Clarke frowns. "Don't talk about him like that. He was just embarrassed about what I did, I'm sure."

"Or he was embarrassed because he's been dying to get your hands on his cock for months." Raven suggests, carefully casual, brows raising in time to the pitch of her words.

Clarke snorts. "We both know that's not true."

"No. No, we don't." Raven argues. "I know I'm teasing you about this too much but it's just because I can't see another way to convince you to _act_." She explains. "You're crazy for him. He's crazy for you. Just go grab each other somewhere more private."

"Believe me, if Bellamy wanted to bone me I'd know about it by now." Clarke says, dismissive, bent over the file before her.

There's an eerie silence. She looks up, alarmed. Raven's still here, alive and apparently well, sitting right in front of her. But her eyes look startled, and as Clarke twists to follow the direction of her gaze she realises why.

Bellamy is standing behind her. He's hovering just inside the door, jaw hanging open and eyes wide. Clarke has never seen him so overtly shocked – not even that time she was holding his goddamn penis.

He's heard every word she just said, hasn't he? Oh god. He's heard Raven suggest they're in love or something and her talk about him crudely and now he's standing there looking utterly flabbergasted.

Is that a good thing? She's really not too sure.

"I have to go to the bathroom." She announces, leaping to her feet. It's a total lie, and all three of them must know it. But if it gets her out of here, then she figures that's fine.

She judges herself a little, as she jogs down the hall. She's just run away from a silly awkward situation like a scared child.

The thing is, she's not just running away from the awkwardness, is she? There's more than that going on. She's always been one from running away from difficult emotional situations. That's why she fled after Mount Weather, why she cut ties with her mother by removing her wristband when she found out the truth about her father.

And honestly, this business with Bellamy is more than a sexual joke or an accidental grope. She really does care about him deeply, as well as wanting to get in his pants. She supposes the combination of deep friendship and pressing sexual attraction is probably love, more or less. It's not like the puppy love she felt for Finn or the brief, hot passion she felt for Lexa, and it scares her all the more for that.

So she's jogging down the hallway before he can tell her that he's not at all interested, thank you very much.

…...

Clarke is sitting up in bed and drawing slightly frantically. She could swear she remembers a time when drawing was her way of keeping calm, but apparently that's a lost cause, these days. The end of the world will do that to a girl.

There's a knock at the door, and she calls out in welcome. It's Bellamy, all tousled curls and sheepish smile, sticking his head around the door almost shyly.

"Is this a good time?" He asks.

"Yeah. Sure. Come on in." She gets out of bed and starts crossing the distance between them.

"Good. Because it seems like I have nothing but bad timing, these last couple of weeks." He jokes weakly.

She rewards that feeble attempt at humour with a feeble attempt at a smile. He's right – his timing has _sucked_ , recently.

He smiles slightly back at her. He steps a little further forward, truly into the room, and closes the door softly behind him. She debates making a joke about door handles, but she's not sure she has the courage.

For the record, falling in love with your best friend is a terrifying experience – more frightening than any battle or oncoming storm of radiation, in its way.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks carefully. There must be a reason he's here.

"Yeah. I hope so." He swallows loudly.

"Bellamy?" She prompts.

He nods, peeps a small hint of a smile at her once more.

And then he steps forward and kisses her.

It has her reeling – both literally and emotionally. She stumbles backwards, because honestly he was a little too determined about that kiss, stepped up and got his lips on hers a bit too suddenly. But it has her reeling, too, because she can't quite process that it is really happening. _If he wanted to jump my bones, I'd know about it by now_. That's what she said to Raven earlier.

Was she wrong?

Maybe it's not that, she wonders. Maybe this is just an experiment. Maybe he's trying to figure out whether he's interested.

Maybe she should stop overthinking it and kiss him back.

She secures her footing, reaches up to tangle a hand in his hair and pull him closer. And then she simply relaxes into the kiss, moving her lips against his on sheer blissful instinct, trying to show him that she's really rather excited about this development.

He keeps kissing her for a while. And yet all too soon he pulls away and looks down at her with a smile in his eyes.

"So _jumping your bones_ sounds fun and all, but honestly I'd rather go for something a little sweeter. _Making love_ , maybe?" He suggests, tone teasing.

She flushes – which is to say, she feels her cheeks heat even more than they were already warmed by that kiss. "You're serious?"

He nods, jaw tight. He doesn't look so teasing any more, she thinks – rather, he looks almost _solemn_.

"Sounds perfect." She says simply, reaching up to start kissing him again.

She feels him huff a sigh of relief into her mouth, giggles slightly against his lips in turn. It makes the kiss a little messy but honestly it's worth it. It's worth it for the honesty and emotional intimacy of the moment.

Clarke's not sure where she's expecting things to go from here. Bellamy's a confident guy, in some ways, and from what she used to hear at the dropship she supposes he likes to take the lead in bed. But their relationship has always been built on the back of her being a leader, too, and on a good-sized dose of mutual respect. And honestly, apart from anything else, he seems _nervous_. She knows he tends to have a low opinion of his own self-worth, that he struggles to ask for what he really wants for himself, more often than not. She has a feeling that's holding him back now, as he kisses her almost _politely_ , like he can't believe it's really happening.

She decides it's time to get things moving. And really, once she's decided that, there's only one thing she can do, isn't there?

She reaches down to palm his cock through his trousers.

He pulls away from the kiss, chuckling quietly.

"Really? _That's_ where you want to take this?"

"I feel like it would work better if you were wearing less." She offers lightly.

He rises to her challenge. Looking her right in the eye, he steps back to pull his shirt clean off over his head. It's the strangest, simplest, and yet most provocative strip-tease she's ever encountered.

She swallows hard, her throat dry. "Wrong clothes. Should have started with these." She whispers, reaching out to stretch his waistband and then snap it slightly against his firm stomach.

He only grins.

"You first, Clarke."

God. He really must stop saying her name like that. The careful way he shapes the simple syllable always gets to her, even when they're just out and about round camp. But here and now, it goes straight to her groin.

So it seems like an unconventional strip-tease _is_ what they're going for here, she muses. Well, then. She wouldn't want to disappoint. She meets his eyes, smiles a confident smile, and then tugs her own shirt off in turn.

He only frowns. "What about the bra?" He asks, a little petulant.

She hesitates. She does kind of want to get on with this, because she's feeling rather turned on. But on the other hand, she thinks it could be fun to draw out the tension a little longer. She thinks teasing Bellamy now could lead to even better things later on.

"It's staying on for now. Your turn." She tells him, a challenge in her tone.

He rises to it. He takes off one shoe, slowly and deliberately.

She snorts, removes a boot in turn. And then, painstakingly slow, they both manage their other shoes and their socks.

Clarke finds herself laughing at them both as her second sock comes off.

"Can we get back to the interesting stuff now?" She asks lightly.

Bellamy chuckles. "Hey. That was fun. You have very sexy feet."

Feet? Sexy _feet_? Wow. He really must like her, or something, if he's going around throwing random compliments at her feet.

She decides he deserves a little reward for that. She unclips her bra at last, tosses it behind her.

The next five minutes of her life are totally wasted in Bellamy squeezing and pulling and kissing and nibbling on her breasts. This is time she'll never get back, she muses – time as the world is ending. Five precious minutes in which literally all that happens is her best friend gropes her tits.

And yet she wouldn't stop him for the world.

It's absolutely beautiful, for one thing. It feels so damn good, to have him toying with her breasts and marking her response. He's teasing her, keeping that simmering tension building, drawing out breathy gasps and the occasional low moan.

But it's not just the fact that it feels so pleasurable. There's something else going on here, too. It's just so heartwarming to have someone cherishing her and playing with her, as if petting a favourite cat. Bellamy making a fuss of her like this is making her feel really precious – and that's something she's not felt in a long time.

At last, though, she decides it's time to move things on. She reaches for his belt buckle and fumbles with it for a moment.

He takes the hint. He steps back, strips his trousers off. He's left wearing only boxers, his erection jutting against the fabric. He's a sight to see – all that toned muscle and brown skin and a comparatively small scrap of black cotton doing nothing to disguise his arousal.

Clarke swallows. Her turn. Trousers off, panties still on. She's pretty sure she's never undressed this slowly in her life before – but after the ill-timing between her and Bellamy in recent days, it's nice to put the brakes on, enjoy the moment and build the mood, now.

Silence falls. Bellamy is blatantly checking her out, raking his eyes up and down her mostly-naked body with an attention to detail that leaves her more flattered than self-conscious. And anyway, she has to admit she's doing much the same to him.

He reaches for the waistband of his boxers, tucks a thumb under the elastic.

"Together?" He asks, brow quirked.

She laughs. She's so pleased they're doing this – making something truly good of a relationship that has grown out of supporting each other through the toughest of times. She gives him a nod, and the two of them strip their underwear off in perfect sync.

Huh. That's some better timing.

She gives up on being patient, then. Curating tension is all very well, but she wants her hands on Bellamy's cock, now. She's been waiting too long for that. She steps forward, pulls him in for a heated kiss with one hand about the back of his neck, and reaches for his cock with her other hand.

"This isn't going to last long if you do that." He whispers against her lips.

"Just for a little while?" She pleads, tugging softly.

He gasps slightly. "Sure. Just a couple of minutes."

She enjoys jerking him off more than she probably should. She's never been that into hand jobs before now, always thought there were better things to be doing with a cock. But after she got that accidental taste of wrapping her fingers around Bellamy the other day, this has been all she can think about. So she makes the most of it now, spitting in her hand a little so she can work the length of him slightly more robustly.

She enjoys it not just because she's been fantasising about it, but also because it's so good to be here in this moment. Bellamy is making the most flattering noises, gasping and groaning as she works, and as things get more heated he even drags his lips away from her kiss to start sucking marks into her neck, a perfect balance of gentle yet possessive.

Somehow, she's not at all surprised to learn that _gentle yet possessive_ defines Bellamy Blake in bed.

She's having fun, but she's not disappointed when Bellamy suggests it's time to move on to something else.

"Let's switch it up." He suggests hoarsely. "You want to get on the bed?"

Yes. She does want to get on the bed, thank you. The blatantly aroused reaction she's been drawing from him has her seriously wet and ready, now, in turn. So she hurries to walk him backwards towards the bed, lies herself down, and looks up at him expectantly.

"You ready for this?" He asks. "Do you want me to -"

"I'm ready." She interrupts, impatient. "Thanks. But I'm very ready." For a guy who's adopted a recent habit of walking into rooms when she's not at all ready for him, he seems determined to make her wait around, now.

He nods, gets himself positioned over her and then eases inside of her. And honestly, his cock goes in really easily. She meant it when she said she was ready. She's very comfortable, really, so she cups her hands about his butt to give him a little encouragement to get moving.

He doesn't miss her hint. He starts moving, slowly at first, then building it up faster and harder. After all that foreplay, she finds herself pretty close to coming pretty quickly. She tries to think calming thoughts for a while, wants to enjoy the moment to the full.

Bellamy makes it easy to concentrate on the moment. He seems to be everywhere, his hands on her breasts and then on her waist, his mouth on her lips or her neck or even, at one point, the shell of her ear. She can hear him panting out endearments and seemingly random expletives, and wonders how he's getting on. She knows him very well outside of the bedroom, but she's never seen this side of him before. She doesn't know if all this noise means he's right on the verge of orgasm, or whether he's just a vocal and encouraging guy.

She tries to respond to him a bit more obviously, in turn. She's normally pretty quiet in bed but on this occasion she tries to let go of her usual inhibitions as best as she can. She focuses on the feel of Bellamy's skin against hers and his cock inside of her, lets herself moan or cry out when she feels the need to do so.

He takes her by surprise when he comes. Sure, he's been getting louder and faster and more breathless. But the moment he actually cries her name and goes suddenly still catches her unawares all the same.

She does her best to help him through it and make it good for him. She holds him tight, presses soft kisses to his shoulder as he comes down the other side.

When he has regained some control of his breathing, he gives a short chuckle.

"Sorry. There's my bad timing again." He says, obviously attempting to laugh at himself.

She doesn't laugh with him. That's probably what he's hoping for, she thinks, but in all honesty she doesn't think it's what he truly needs. Rather she keeps holding him tight, presses a few more kisses to his shoulder while she gathers her thoughts and chooses her words.

"It's not an issue." She begins there, because honestly it really isn't an issue _at all_. She can think of a thousand things more concerning than their orgasms not being in sync. It's perfectly normal for a pair of lovers to have different length fuses, in her experience, and anyway she did spend all that time jerking him off first. He got a head start.

"You OK? Can I give you a hand?" He asks, slipping out of her and lying at her side, reaching down towards her crotch with eager fingers.

"Sure. And really, don't worry about it." She pauses, wonders how much to say. "It really doesn't bother me at all. I'm still having fun. But if it bothers you we'll probably be able to line up better as we get to know each other with time."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He grins, apparently rather more comfortable, now. "We're going to keep doing this, right?"

"I sure hope so." She says warmly.

He rewards her with a kiss for that – then another kiss and another and a handful more. And he slips a couple of thick fingers easily inside of her, too, and starts coaxing her closer to the edge once more.

"That's really not going to take you long." She huffs breathlessly.

He simply smiles, and kisses her again.

She's right, it turns out. It's not long before she can feel her legs trembling, before she's starting to buck instinctively up into his hand, seeking just a little more to tip her over the edge.

And then she's there, kissing him deep and slow as she clenches around his fingers.

"I think your hand might be even better than your cock." It's the first thing she says when she feels ready to start speaking again, as much because it's the truth as because she wants to reassure him that she's not at all disappointed by their disjointed timing.

"Maybe that's a project for another day – you can try both and tell me which you prefer." He says lightly, pulling his hand away.

She catches his wrist with her fingers, tugs his hand up towards her. There's something she wants to try before they call it a day, here. Maybe it's a silly thing, but she really wants to lick his fingers and find out how the two of them taste together.

He seems puzzled as she pulls at his wrist, but not alarmed. He goes along with it easily enough, looking her right in the eyes with a question in his gaze.

She answers it with a long lick up the length of his forefinger, and then by taking two of his fingers into her mouth and suckling lightly.

He gasps, hand twitching slightly against her tongue, but he doesn't pull away. He just looks down at her with this sort of heavy gaze that makes her want to squirm – in a good way. And his fingers taste sharp and bitter and salty, and although she could swear she feels satisfied, it has her thinking all at once that she can't wait to get her mouth on his cock, next time.

"You're incredible." He breathes, sounding a little concussed.

She slips his fingers from her mouth, intertwines their hands and simply smiles up at him.

"You, too. We should have done this months ago."

"You're right. But clearly we're not great at timing."

She laughs a little, curls into his side for a hug. Sure, their timing could be better. But she thinks mismatched orgasms are better than no lovemaking at all, and walking into an awkward moment is better than never finding out they were interested in each other like this.

Most of all, she thinks that getting together with four months to live is better than living those four months apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
